


Hazards of Speed Texting

by Tobyaudax



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: -just a little in chapter 2 so far, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Little bit of smut, M/M, Mostly fluff though, Secret Relationship, Takes place during season 3, but a lot of things just didn't happen-, more smut in chapter 3, no Flashpoint, no Savitar, no legends of tomorrow, sorry- i'm bad at tagging!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-19 00:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11886129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobyaudax/pseuds/Tobyaudax
Summary: Autocorrect is flawed for people typing at regular speeds- it stands no chance against The Flash.





	1. Barry Allen's Famous Unreadable Texts

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I got while messaging with Blue_Wanderer over on tumblr. My phones have made a lot of stupid (and funny) typos over the years and it occurred to me that typos made at super speed would be Even Worse. I'd also, previously, written a DBZ fic that involved speed texting (story isn't here on AO3, but I should probably share it, since I still like it) and wanted to explore that with my favourite fandom.

Deciphering a text from Barry Allen is either an art form or an exercise in futility, depending on to whom the text is being sent. Caitlin has equated reading Barry’s texts to performing invasive surgery- it’s difficult, stressful but ultimately rewarding (not to mention frequently important). Cisco claims he no longer has any problem figuring out the gibberish of letters (and sometimes numbers) that Barry sends him. There have been a few occasions, however, where the engineer has dropped his phone into a desk drawer and stormed out of the room. Iris insists he’s been sending terrible texts since he got his first cell phone, but she’s admitted that there have been recent messages she accidentally deleted, thinking they were a virus or spam.

Wally says he used to have as much difficulty figuring out what Barry was trying to convey as everyone else, but since his own connection to the Speed Force, his foster-brother’s texts make a lot more sense. Most of the time. …Some times. Joe doesn’t bother reading them; whenever Barry sends him a message, Joe just calls him. This is all information that Leonard Snart has learned over the course of, often reluctantly, working with Team Flash. He’s observed messages being received and the various reactions they cause, but he hasn’t had an opportunity to see one of Barry Allen’s Famous Unreadable Texts first-hand. Until today, that is.

_CNN u cine 2 start leans ton9t afart 7_

Leonard is just glad he’s alone when he gets the message- it takes him 45 seconds to stop laughing. When he can look at the text without snickering, the first thing he recognizes is Barry’s number as the sender. And, after reading through once more, he figures Barry is asking him to go to STAR Labs, after 7 p.m. It’s ridiculously simple to decode and he wonders, not for the first time, if Barry’s friends and family are just lazy. Though, with so many bad texts between them, Leonard has to consider first, if anyone has actually talked to Barry about it or if Barry himself has ever read what he’s sent, after he’s sent it. He decides to test a theory.

_Sure. I’ll see you at start leans afart 7._

It’s a battle to type out the end of the message, but he manages. Not four seconds later, he gets a reply:

_Hear thxn cu then_

Another easy one: “Great. Thanks. See you then”. And Barry doesn’t seem to notice the string of odd typos. Maybe he’s gotten so used to sending speed texts, that he’s created his own language via text messaging. There’s nothing else to be communicated, so Leonard decides to wait for another message before conducting further research. He doesn't keep his phone at hand the rest of the afternoon, instead leaving it in his pocket. Though he can't be faulted for checking his messages once an hour (or so), just in case.

Six-fifty that evening finds Leonard, in full Captain Cold apparel, letting himself into STAR Labs. While he has been working with Barry and his team for… a little while, now, everyone (exempting the Flash and Kid Flash, the latter of whom probably just doesn't know any better) continues to not fully trust him. Which is completely understandable. Leonard sometimes wishes Barry would follow their example; he tends to trust people far too readily.

The text suggested that he arrive after seven, but Leonard has always found it a good idea to show up places he's expected early, in case of any surprises or potential traps. He doesn't think Barry has it in him to set a trap- the guy's smart, but not very good at thinking ahead- but he wouldn't put it past the team to have something planned. He makes his way to the elevator and from there, down to the area dubbed the Cortex. Barry didn't specify where they were meeting, but it's usually the place with all the computer screens and lab/hospital rooms branching off. Leonard isn't surprised that Barry isn't there yet. He takes note of the lower lighting and the general absence of any other life. No one else seems to be at the Labs at this hour. He's pretty sure that's unusual.

Leonard moves through the room, looking over books and papers that have been left out. He removes his gloves and drops them into a pocket; his goggles are in another, as he didn't plan on using the cold gun strapped at home on his thigh. Kid Flash's outfit is the only one in place and Leonard walks over to straighten the crooked mask. With as unspecific a time as 'after seven', he isn't sure just how late Barry will be. He considers turning on one of the computers and watching a movie on Ramon's Netflix account.

He doesn't have to check his watch to know the time, but he does anyway, for something to do. It's four after seven and then twelve after seven when Barry finally shows up. He explodes into the room as he always does- in a flurry of lightning and a small tidal wave of loose papers. Why the rest of the team doesn't have paper weights littered everywhere for just such entrances is beyond him- his apartment is well-stocked with the things. Barry's wearing the Flash suit and he pushes the mask back to rake fingers through his hair in a failed attempt to tame it. Leonard has always liked the windblown look on the other man.

"Oh, sweet, you're already here," Barry breathes when he finally notices Leonard.

"Arrived early, as usual. You should try it some time." Leonard smirks at the exasperated- yet fond- expression on Barry's face.

"I have! Sometimes it works out and usually it doesn't. At least with Julian at the precinct now, Singh doesn't give me as much hell for being late."

"Probably helps that both of them know about your… extra-curricular activities."

Barry snorts, "You make it sound like I'm still in college. …Or high school." Wearing a smirk of his own, Barry stalks into Leonard's space, draping an arm over each of his shoulders. "You're not making out with a high schooler, are you, Lenny?"

"Not even here two minutes and you're already trying to kill the mood," Leonard sighs, but leans forward to kiss the shitty little grin off Barry's face.

At some point, he's going to ask why Barry saw fit to not only text him for this, but to have him come out to the Labs. Normally they end up at Barry's place, after a metahuman fight or if Leonard feels rusty and is out on a heist. Once in a while they make it to Leonard's second-nicest apartment, out in Keystone (he likes Barry, but they haven't been doing whatever it is they're doing long enough to take him to the good place he has in Central). But every instance, every encounter previous, they decided the matter face-to-face. Once he's done kissing Barry breathless, he'll find out if something's up.

For someone with an enhanced metabolism, Barry isn't as good at holding a kiss as long as Leonard is. He thinks it might be because he has more practice- he is older- but it could also be because Barry gets excited very easily. Seventy-four seconds later and Barry is pulling back a fraction, panting and licking his lips. It's a new record. Leonard will have to reward him for the effort.

While Barry's catching his breath- another few seconds- and before he dives in for more, Leonard rests one hand on the other man's hip, holding him in place.

"Not that I'm complaining," he begins, tracing the thumb of his free hand along Barry's bottom lip. "But what made you send that ridiculous text? And why here?"

Barry doesn't answer right away, biting at and catching Leonard's thumb between his teeth. He grins and sucks a little before letting go, liking what he's done to Leonard's face with the gesture. But then the first question registers.

"Hey, what you mean 'ridiculous'? I just asked you to meet me here!" Barry might be genuinely offended- it's difficult to tell for certain when his hands are sneaking up under Leonard's shirt.

"Have- ah- have you ever read one of your texts?" Leonard grabs a hand that starts to dip fingers into the front of his pants. "Before _or after_ you send it?"

"No," Barry answers, wary. His hands withdraw so he can situate his forearms across Leonard's shoulders again. "Why should I? Any typos I might-" Leonard interrupts him with a bark of laughter. "-make, Autocorrect fixes. S'why it's called 'auto' correct," Barry finishes, tone matter-of-fact.

"I don't think it was designed for use by someone with such quick fingers. You asked me to, and I quote, 'sine you at start leans' this evening."

"Pfft, no I didn't. Lemme see-" Barry disappears out of the Labs and it takes both three seconds for him to return and for Leonard to realize he went to pick up his phone from wherever he'd left it. Probably his apartment. In the middle of Central City.

"I said STAR Lah- oh my god. What even _is_ this-? How did you figure out to even _come here_?" Barry stares at his phone, incredulous.

"I'm just that smart," Leonard purrs. He plucks the phone from Barry's hand and sets it on the closest flat surface. "I've heard horror stories about the texts you send everyone else- I'm honoured to finally join the club."

"Okay, now I almost wanna go over every text I've sent and see just how bad-"

"Don't worry about it." Leonard takes Barry's face in his hands, pulling his attention away from his phone. He slots them together, slipping one hand into Barry's hair and the other resting on the small of his back. "You haven't told me why we're meeting here, now."

"Oh. Oh yeah," Barry sighs and leans into the hand combing through his unruly hair. "So, I had most of the team over at my place earlier and then I was thinking about you. And me."

He pauses and bites his bottom lip, ducking his head briefly to glance up coyly through his lashes. " …And you and me. And, I didn't want to wait for the next, what do you like to call them? 'Diversion'. So I figured we could try this out on mostly neutral ground. See if we have as much fun without almost getting killed before hand."

"Barry Allen," Leonard starts, his smirk so wide it almost hurts. "Did you actually _plan_ something? And hours in advance, too! There might be hope for you, yet."

"So maybe you've been a good influence," Barry shrugs off the backwards, almost-compliment. "I keep telling you there's good in you-"

"And that 'good' is usually you. In me. When we-"

"Ha hah, yeah, really," Barry interrupts with a laugh, dropping his head onto Leonard's shoulder. His hands play with the fur on the parka's hood. "But you know what I mean. We don't have to talk about it or whatever, but someday you're gonna see I've been right all along."

"Talk like that makes me want to prove the opposite," Leonard growls, but he's not angry. He's used to the occasional speech from Barry about 'the good in you' and he takes them in stride, now. Maybe he's a slightly better man than he was, say, a few years ago, but there certainly is very little good to him. At least, not outside the bedroom- or wherever he and Barry find themselves when the mood strikes.

"How about, you show me, how _bad_ you really are, after I try, to find, a little more, _good_." Barry kisses at Leonard's lips and then along his jaw as he talks, peppering in quick, little bites. Leonard doesn't moan, but it's difficult to keep the sound to himself. Barry will get him in the end, though- he always does.

Not to be outdone so soon, Leonard stretches his neck for Barry, giving him more access and a false sense of empowerment. He falls for it every time. Barry goes in for a long lick from just inside Leonard's shirt collar up to his ear, but before he can get the lobe between his teeth, Leonard grabs a handful of the other man's ass and squeezes, hard. Barry moans first, low and excruciatingly dirty. Leonard uses the distraction to slip out of Barry's now-lax arm cage, moving behind him to start his own exploration of that long, lovely neck.

One of his many favourite things about Barry is his freckles and moles. Leonard knows where all of them are, on every part of Barry's body. And he knows which ones are the most sensitive- to both touch and differences in temperature. He holds Barry's shoulders, placing his hands almost absently as he kisses the spot near Barry's ear that will make him moan louder. He's aware of his hood being flipped up but ignores it, smirking into the next kiss, focusing most of his attention on mapping Barry's skin with his mouth.

The distinct sound of a camera phone going off distracts him a second later. He looks up, away from his task, but there's no phone in sight. Barry has a decidedly smarmy grin on his face, though. If Leonard didn't like it so much, he'd kiss it away. But Barry being a little shit is another enjoyable aspect to their… 'hook-ups' as the other man is fond of calling them. It's entertaining- and a huge turn-on- when Barry plays dirty. That smile means he's either up to something or has already done it and, since Barry can't keep a secret to save his life, Leonard will find out sooner rather than later.

Barry lets Leonard move them to one of the larger medical rooms, the one with the bed big and sturdy enough for two people. Barry lets Leonard do a lot of things, but he always gives back as good as or better than he gets. That night is no exception; Leonard thinks the added possibility of someone walking in on them makes the sex the best they've had so far. He almost wears Barry out, first, too.

It's not until the following morning, after he's back in his place in Central, that the phone he keeps for Flash business blows up- figuratively speaking. There are multiple texts from everyone on the team… and one from Barry the previous night. Leonard frowns at the device, but scrolls past the growing host of texts to what Barry had sent him. Correction- to what Barry sent _everyone Barry knows_. It's a photo, taken sometime shortly after Leonard tried to turn the tables. He stares at himself, hood up, mouthing along Barry's neck while Barry, Flash emblem fully visible, smirks at the camera. Leonard laughs- Barry had managed to make him forget about the camera sound entirely!

Unfortunately, now he has to deal with everyone from Dr. Snow to Detective West knowing what he and Barry have been doing the past several months after "missions". Some of them had to have suspected- Barry and secrets just don't mesh. As he reads through messages conveying threats of varying intensity- and a couple from Wally that are surprisingly supportive- he can't help but wonder if Barry sent the photo to everyone on purpose.


	2. I'm so much better at secrets than you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An inevitable disagreement arises.

Leonard hits the wall hard enough to shake loose a mini shower of plaster powder. He's still wearing his goggles and watches the dust settle through a blue haze. The Flash has both hands fisted in the front of his parka and is leaning in close, expression caught between a snarl and a smirk. Leonard gives him an answering grin and closes the inch between them to capture the other man's lips. But Flash tilts his head, pulls back, and settles into a scowl.

"Didn't we _just_ talk about this kinda thing?" Flash leans back with a sigh, letting go of Leonard's coat. Leonard drops the couple inches he was off the floor as Flash pushes back his mask and tangles his fingers in his hair, frustrated.

"Well, you know how I enjoy proving you wrong," Leonard drawls, brushing plaster dust off his shoulders. "Didn't expect you to be so mad about it-"

"Really, Lenny? You hit an art gallery full of people and didn't think I'd be mad? You _know_ how much harder it is when I have to look out for bystanders!"

"I also know you like the challenge. And no one was in any real danger- our deal still stands."

"Oh great, let's bring up _the deal_ again," Barry grumbles and spins away, stalking off towards the small kitchen in his apartment. Leonard doesn't consider for a second that Barry was really angry; he tends to get quiet and much more physical when he's pushed too far.

He stays near the wall outside the bedroom, intending to wait Barry out. After a couple minutes and nothing more from Barry, Leonard removes his goggles and gloves, tucking them into his coat pockets before slipping off the parka. Barry clatters around the kitchen, still mumbling, but now to himself. Leonard drapes his coat over the sofa and un-straps the cold gun, setting it on the side table furthest from the bedroom. He leans against the sofa and watches Barry from his new, better vantage point.

"Did you not want to talk about the deal?" Leonard finally asks as he studies the nails of one hand.

Barry drops the box of cereal he was eating out of on the counter and braces himself on both arms, leaning forward. "Okay, so, everyone _just_ found out about us," he begins wearily. "And I've been _trying_ to tell them you're different, that there are _so many_ good things about you and- no, don't. Lemme finish." He holds up a hand to forestall the snide comment Leonard wants to make.

"And you've been working _with_ us more than against us and then you go and do… whatever _that_ was. I just- I don't get it. I don't understand why you're so opposed to, I dunno, being a good guy? Are you… is this about us..? Is it- are you mad I told everybody?" He asks the last two questions quietly, like he doesn't really want to know the answers.

Barry Allen does just about everything at super speed, including expressing his emotions. His anger morphs into frustration and then sadness and apprehension in the span of a minute. Leonard almost feels like he's gotten whiplash from the conversation. He wanted to keep things light today, change the subject before long and get them both into Barry's disaster of a bedroom to blow off the rest of the disagreement, but now he has to do damage control. He isn't angry, himself- he's known from the start that Barry is a very emotional man- but he is frustrated that he read the situation wrong, from the beginning, apparently.

Leonard briefly studies the man across the room, organizing his thoughts as quickly as he can (which is always too slow for Barry, but damn if the kid doesn't always wait for him). He takes in the tight shoulders, pinched, concerned expression and bottom lip being worried between Barry's teeth. He hasn't even taken the Flash suit off yet- which has become the first thing he does when they get together. The first time Leonard made him come inside the suit was the last- Barry had repeated Ramon's full lecture about respecting super hero costumes to Leonard the next time they'd met. The fact that Barry is still in the suit means sex won't be happening any time soon.

"It's not about us," he finally replies with a sigh. "Not like you're thinking. I'm not- this isn't a break-up or… we're not really dating, so…" Leonard trails off at the increasingly hurt look taking over Barry's face. Why was this so difficult? Why did Barry have to make something as simple as a heist so complicated!

"I can't be a good guy because I'm not one." Leonard starts over, abandoning the… relationship talk in lieu of something that's easier to explain. "I know, I know- you see good in me, et cetera. But I've lived my life a certain way, up 'till recently. I've done things that, even though my criminal records mysteriously vanished-" Barry's bark of laughter is amused, not bitter, which is encouraging. "-I can't just pretend haven't happened."

Leonard picks at a loose thread on the couch, keeping his eyes down, unwilling to watch Barry as he continues, "I have connections. I have enemies. And yes, the deal we made has changed how I see things, how I do things, but I still have an image I need to uphold."

He pauses, not really wanting to say anything else so revealing, but… something about Barry pulls just a little more information from him. "I do this to keep myself, Lisa and even Mick, safe."

He isn’t prepared to talk about himself so frankly. Leonard hadn't planned on ever bringing these things up, let alone laying them out to Barry. But he knows he has to say something to get that kicked puppy look off Barry's face. And he finds that, the more he says, the longer he talks, the lighter he feels. It was a weight he hadn't realized he was even carrying. But he's said enough, for today. Barry doesn't look so upset anymore.

"So yeah, every now and then, I'm going to pull a job." Leonard shrugs as he pushes off the sofa and approaches the counter. "I'm going to go out and steal things and I'm going to succeed. People will see me and, as far as they know, I'll still be playing the game. They don't need to know just how much the game's changed. That's… well, that's a little secret between me and you, Barry. And I'm so much better at secrets than you are."

Barry laughs and moves around the counter at normal speed, wrapping his arms around Leonard and resting his head on the older man's shoulder. Leonard actually can't remember when he stopped flinching and freezing during Barry's hugs; he only knows that Barry started hugging him a month ago.

"I still don't like it," Barry mutters into Leonard's neck, warm breath tickling. "But thanks. Thanks for… trying and- and being better than you think."

Leonard smiles as he slips his arms free of the hug. He runs a hand through Barry's hair, the other finding its perfect fit at Barry's hip. If telling the truth is always this easy, he might have to consider doing it more often. But only around Barry.

"You want to move this to the bedroom or do you wanna finish your Cookie Crisp?" Leonard nods towards the abandoned box of cereal spilling onto the countertop.

"…I wanna hear you say 'Cookie Crisp' again because that is _hilarious_." Barry's laughter shakes both of their bodies.

"I'd complain about your dietary choices, but you're an adult and have a super enhanced metabolism, so I don't think it'd do any good."

"No, it wouldn't. And I think I'd rather follow _this_ -" Barry's hands have found Leonard's ass and squeeze both cheeks. "-through."

And just like that, things are as back to normal as they ever are with Barry. They continue to move at a regular, human speed, Barry backing Leonard to the bedroom, removing his shirt and then pausing every few steps to kiss the revealed skin. Once Leonard has cleared Barry's laundry from the bed (with less fuss than usual), he collapses backwards to watch Barry strip out of the Flash suit. He undoes his pants and then removes the rest of his own clothing just as Barry kicks out of his boots and leaves the costume in a heap on the floor. Ramon would be appalled, but at least they aren't fucking in or on it anymore.

They spend the rest of the afternoon and into the evening in bed, taking turns with each other and trying out a new toy Barry had purchased. It's after eight when Leonard starts to think about leaving. Though, with the fight at the gallery and all of their activities since, he's a bit of a mess; the sheets will need washed and the scents of sex, sweat and flavoured lube are heavy in the still air of the bedroom. Barry, however, isn't ready to move yet. He has a higher tolerance for wearing their mingled fluids than Leonard does.

"So…" Barry hedges. "You said we're not really dating." Leonard nods absently, moving his hand in slow circles over Barry's lower back. He knows Barry has more to say and doesn't feel much like talking anymore. "…Can we be?"

"Sure," Leonard replies, without hesitation. He knows it's what Barry wants to hear. …And maybe he likes the sound of it a little, too. He can feel Barry's grin against his chest.

"'No, sorry, I can't make it tonight- my boyfriend and I have plans.'" Barry laughs at the one-sided, fictional exchange he created and snuggles closer. Leonard has to get up before he's really trapped.

"Okay, _boyfriend_ ," he chuckles, disentangling himself from Barry's limbs. "I need a shower after all… this." He gestures around the bed, grimacing at the ache in his lower back. He'll have to ice it when he gets home.

"Oh, uh, sure. Yeah." Barry sits up quickly, glancing towards the bathroom door that's hanging partially open. "Just, uh… one sec, okay?"

"I've seen the rest of your apartment, y'know," Leonard calls after him, ignoring the still slightly disturbing after-image Barry has left in the bed in his haste. "Your bathroom can't be that bad!"

And then Leonard realizes that he's never been in or seen Barry's bathroom. They've never spent the night at either of their apartments, but Barry _has_ used Leonard's shower a couple of times. It's possible that Leonard's never gotten so… dirty while at Barry's place, but that's not true. In the past, he's mopped up, wiped himself down with a damp washcloth and then a clean towel he'd found on the floor. He's going to consider this new desire- need, really- to use Barry's bathroom as a by-product of the fantastic sex and admittedly good conversation they had.

Barry returns in under a minute, even sweatier than when he left. "Okay, you're good to go in there!" He beams, proud of himself and the work he's been doing getting the shower (or the whole room- Barry is _such_ a slob) ready for human use. Leonard chuckles and hauls himself free of the bed. He gives Barry's ass a hard slap of approval as he passes and just manages to duck away from the other man's grabbing hands. If he lets Barry touch him again, he'll likely never leave.

Like the rest of Barry's place, the bathroom is a relatively small space. There's a shower with a glass door- no tub- toilet, sink and small cabinet against the wall opposite the shower. And it's _spotless_. The chrome fixtures sparkle in the light cast from the ceiling and the bulbs over the vanity. Barry really outdid himself; shame he likely won't keep the place in such good condition. Leonard turns the water on, adjusting the temperature to just the right side of cool. Barry even managed to leave a fresh towel on the bar for him. As he's closing the shower door behind him, he notices a small speaker mounted in the corner, above the stall.

Barry not only sings when he showers- even though Leonard's never been in the room before, he's been in the apartment when Barry cleans up- but he also listens to music. Leonard's heard various songs and even glanced at Barry's phone before, noticing the Internet radio station app open on the lock screen. The little speaker clearly didn't come with the apartment and, even though Barry has a considerable inheritance to his name (one he really needs to use more often- Barry is so much better than this apartment), he rarely splurges on things for himself. Either Ramon or, possibly, Hartley Rathaway, made the thing for him. Leonard hopes it's Ramon- he doesn't like the stories the team has told about Barry's first meeting with the Pied Piper.

Leonard showers quickly, never one to spend more time than necessary in the bathroom. He uses the pale blue towel and exits back into the bedroom in time to watch Barry finish stripping the sheets from the bed. He's glad the other man washes his sheets in the laundry in the building's basement, especially now that Detective West knows what- and who- Barry's doing in his free time. He picks his clothing up as quickly as possible, while continuing to dodge Barry's busy hands, and moves to get dressed in the living room.

The shower starts up again as Leonard is debating whether or not he should put his boots on or leave them by the door- Barry might want to get take-out and likes it when Leonard stays for dinner. Lightning crackles into the room, fluttering the pages of the stack of magazines long-since secured on the coffee table. Barry stands at the far end of the couch, still nude, scrolling through and tapping at his phone. Finding what he's looking for, he gives Leonard a little smile and disappears back into the bathroom before the older man can ask if he wants to do dinner. Leonard chuckles to himself and spreads out on the couch, digging the remote out from where it always gets lodged between the cushions.

He's starting up Netflix when music drifts out on the steam from the bathroom, a song he's heard Barry sing so many times, Leonard has it memorized. He smiles softly, the expression he reserves exclusively for Barry and Barry-related things, and locates a documentary on hammerhead sharks he'd started last time he was over. Four more songs play with Barry providing perfect vocals heard well over the music before Leonard notices a weighted silence. He doesn't even pause the program as he leans across the couch and picks up Barry's phone, unlocking it using the pin he'd guessed several weeks back. The song that started a few seconds ago is one that Barry… isn't fond of. He hasn't said why, or even that he doesn’t like it, but Leonard has noticed whenever it's skipped.

Frowning, he taps the 'next song' button. He suspects the song reminds Barry of his mother, but he's not going to pry. Like everything else that's ever bothered his… boyfriend, Barry will tell him when he's ready. The next tune is more upbeat and Leonard can hear laughter in Barry's voice as he belts out the lyrics. Leonard is smiling wider than he has in a long time and it's only when he turns his attention to the documentary's end credits that he realizes he may be in way too deep with Barry Allen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for this chapter to start with or involve any angst, but it just kind of happened and then made sense, in the grand scheme of things.
> 
> Sorry for the lack of speed texting in this, as well. It should still be a theme, just got back-burnered for the argument and further relationship development. Also, I got the idea, originally, for the song-skipping while I was listening to music while I showered. I live alone, but would have appreciated if someone had been around to skip a song I don't like. :D
> 
> And I do hope it doesn't seem terribly out of character for Leonard to open up to Barry. It wasn't anything major, nothing heartfelt, but important nonetheless and something I feel that he would want to (maybe even need to) tell Barry, at some point. No matter how much he may deny it. :)
> 
> I really love getting comments, but totally understand that sometimes, you just enjoy something and can't think of what to say. So thanks for reading!!


	3. Invasion of the Snart Snatcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick knows about obsession. He loves Fire, but he also respects It, reveres It. He understands It in ways no other man, woman or person ever will. Mick knows he'll be burned again and he welcomes it. What he doesn't know, what doesn't make sense to him, is Snart and the Flash, or Streak or whatever the guy calls himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for slightly more detailed smut towards the end!

_Central City, January 2015_

Mick can't be faulted for thinking the thick, steel door wouldn't break just because of Snart's freezer gun. He was mostly sure it would, otherwise he wouldn't have listened to his partner and driven through it. And Snart's just lucky Mick has worked with him enough, still knows him so well, that he ignores the smug tone of his 'told you so'. Nice to know that, even if the world changes around them, Snart's still the same irritating, know-it-all little bitch Mick met in juvie.

He's not sure what, exactly, they're doing in the warehouse; it isn't like Snart's usual jobs. The plot thickens when the cars are revealed. Mick doesn't bother trying to figure out how they'll get even one vehicle out- he knows Snart's just itching to explain his grand scheme. …Except, this time, there is no plan. Which is more alarming than Mick lets on. Snart tells him they're waiting for something or someone and what- or whoever it is must be pretty damn amazing for the other man to hang around as the sirens gets louder, the pigs get closer.

Normally, Mick doesn't care about the full details of Snart's plans. He's primarily brought on for muscle and to keep any additional crew members in line. He learns his part, memorizes the time frame and then plays the rest by ear- a method that tends to bother the hell out of Snart (and the main reason they split, seemingly for good, nearly a year ago). This plan seemed no different, if a lot less complicated and the accompanying speech much shorter. Hell, there wasn't even a full crew- just he and Snart, like the bad old days. Mick always thought Snart would never change, that he'd gotten pretty much perfect at the game and would continue until he either got bored and retired or complacent and dead.

They're not at the garage to steal anything and damnit, Mick isn't even allowed (hah, as if Snart could stop him if he _really_ wanted to heat things up) to use his neat new toy. The new toy he had to learn every little thing about and practice aiming and firing for three months before Snart was satisfied. Mick did have a tendency to get… distracted when Fire was involved, but he could admit he was happy to have memorized every intimate detail of the little flame-thrower, the heat gun. _His_ heat gun. It's as close to an apology for ditching him as Mick is likely to get from Snart and it will suffice. So he's understandably angry when he's told to wait, that he can't burn a thing until whatever Snart's waiting for shows up.

The sirens are much louder now and Mick starts to worry, just a little. Snart checks his watch- a nervous habit, a practiced move to cover when some aspect of a plan starts to wobble on the rails- and, even more disturbing, stares off into nothing. Mick knows that look; Mick has _lived_ that look. It's the face of someone in a little deeper than they thought, the outskirts of obsessed. What on earth could make a man Mick's known for more than twenty years, a man with nearly perfect control, look like that?

"He's not coming." The words are mumbled, petulant. The look on Snart's face now can only be described as a pout. He's suddenly a child who didn't get the toy they wanted for their birthday. He's a teenager, stood up for a hot date. Snart is Disappointed with a capitol "D".

"We're leaving," Snart says abruptly, that pout morphing into a familiar scowl. But Mick saw it. Mick knows something is not right with his old partner. And he's going to need an answer as to what.

He doesn't expect the reason, the person that has Snart so bothered. It's so out-of-character for the other man that Mick starts trying to fit puzzle pieces together, searching for the cause of the change in behaviour as he drives them back to the warehouse they're squatting in. Snart was in Central when that huge machine- what was it called?- exploded and he told Mick that things were changing in the aftermath. Could whatever have created people- or things- like the Flash and other… super-powered people have affected Snart, as well? Mick almost wants to ask, but he's not sure if Snart would know. He's more than happy to point the change out, though. Nobody knows obsession better than Mick Rory.

The argument, the heated words and threats between them the following days, is at least normal. And after the disaster that is picking up that stupid painting, it's thrilling to level his heat gun at Snart, to stare down the glowing, triple sights of the freeze ray. He's already made a joke about Snart needing the bigger gun as compensation. The stand-off feels like coming home, but to a way nicer house than he left, the two super weapons lighting up the room like Christmas. Snart pulls back first and Mick wonders if that movie he saw about body snatchers when he was a kid could've been based on actual events.

Mick knows about obsession. He loves Fire, but he also respects It, reveres It. He understands It in ways no other man, woman or person ever will. Mick knows he'll be burned again and he welcomes it. What he doesn't know, what doesn't make sense to him, is Snart and the Flash, or Streak or whatever the guy calls himself. Snart's behaviour actually makes Mick listen to the explanation and subsequent speech, in its entirety. If he's going to stick around, work with Snart again (and he wants to, despite the last time- Snart's the closest thing to a friend Mick's ever had), he needs to understand why the Flash is both so important _and_ needs to die.

Killing isn't an issue- Mick's done it before and he's certain he'll do it again. The problem is the amount of time and energy Snart has spent on learning about the Flash, only to wipe him out. Over the next few days, Mick can't stop thinking about that little pout on Snart's face. He can't fit together how his partner can want to square-off against someone so badly, only to end it in one night, for good. Mick isn't an idiot, but he doesn't really have a good head for planning or calculations. He tends to lose focus, get distracted. But he makes himself stay put and do the math- figure out when the Flash showed up, when Snart came back to Central and about how long they could've interacted at the theatre and then on the train.

He gets a headache before too long and then it's time to track down Flash's accomplices; one of them, at least. The woman Snart leads them to turns out to be a doctor. Mick thinks it's weird that a superhero has their own private physician, but then, where else could the guy go when he gets beat up by another freak? Kidnapping has never been on Snart's rap sheet and as if that wasn't weird enough, the broadcast Mick's partner sets up is the final bit of evidence that something is _very wrong_ with Leonard Snart. For a man who prides himself on clean heists, on keeping out of prison for years at a time, Snart's awfully eager to show his face (and give his name) to the entirety of Central City. Mick has no idea what to do with this new person.

The young doctor has to be smart, to be a doctor, and Mick figures he has nothing to lose in asking her about Flash, about why he's so special. He needs more information, because what he has isn't adding up. He wants Snart to be okay, unaffected and unchanged, but there's very little proof available to the contrary. And the doctor won't talk, which Mick admires. She's feisty and the pretty, auburn highlights in her hair remind him of the Flame. He waxes a little poetic to her, thinks that if he can make her understand even a little bit about Fire, she'll be more inclined to share something about the Flash.

It doesn't work, but she's still, surprisingly, not scared and then he has to leave. He finds he wants her to be there when they get back, after he and Snart kill the Flash. Maybe once the 'hero' is dead, the doctor will be ready to spill her secrets. Except that doesn't really work out, either. Things are going well, at first; Snart seems if not back to his old self, then somehow even happier. When he's not tracking the Flash, he's sending Mick these little grins. _Isn't this fun? Aren't you glad I brought you in?,_ he seems to be saying. Mick just wants to end it and move on- there are way better uses for his gun than cooking the human bullet.

Maybe Snart's aim is a little off, though. There are shots Mick swears went just a hair too wide, that if Snart had taken even an extra second, he could've hit the guy dead center and taken him down. Mick certainly isn't holding back. He and Snart separate almost immediately, but he starts to get the feeling that his partner's less-than-perfect shots are interfering with Mick's own steady ones. Hot and cold are opposites, after all; a fact that's irrefutably proven when Flash gets between them, they finally have him, only for the guy to flash away (Mick gets the name- it's a little on the nose) and both guns nearly explode, sending Mick and Snart flying away from each other.

Mick's skull bounces on the pavement and he doesn't wake up until he's being half-dragged out of the squad car and into the CCPD. To say that he's furious is a bit of an understatement. He can't even look back at Snart, too pissed at the other man. Mick takes his rage out on the cops around him, shouting threats and obscenities and finally just growling at everyone. He briefly crowds some kid standing around, looking a little too pleased with himself. Mick frees an arm but doesn't get a chance to threaten the kid or maybe bite the nose off his face- he's hauled back between the cops and forced out of the room. He's going to get Snart for this; there'll be no protection when they arrive at Iron Heights this time.

Just because they never make it to prison, doesn't mean Snart is forgiven- the older one, not Lisa. Lisa's never done anything wrong and Mick's happy to see she, at least, is the same as he remembers her. A little older, all grown up and a tough little bitch, just like her asshole brother. Mick's proud of her, even if the plan to bust them out was Leonard's. Mick spends the next three months sending any necessary communications to Snart through Lisa. He'll cool off in time- and if he can ever get his great new toy back; thanks for that, buddy- but that doesn't mean he'll play nice with Snart before he absolutely has to.

It takes toppling part of the local mafia, more kidnapping and a really great dinner out with Lisa for Mick to reluctantly let things start to return to normal with Snart. And it helps that his partner managed to get both guns back _and_ a nice bonus one for Lisa. Molten gold isn't as fun as Fire, but it's a similar colour and Mick can appreciate the theatrics on Lisa. She's been like his little sister for as long as he's known her and Mick just wants her to be happy, to have everything she wants. …Even if what she seems to want is the twerp who re-made their guns. It's the only reason Mick doesn't beat the kid's brother to death.

Over the following months, the situation with the Flash changes for both worse and a little better. Snart strikes a deal which keeps them all out of prison, but that makes it so that Mick has to be _even more careful_ with the Flame. No killing, no hurting civilians. God, he remembers when Snart used to be even a little fun. And if Mick thought Snart had it bad at the imported car place, he couldn't have imagined how much worse it was going to get.

\-- --

_Present Day_

Barry knows it's Lenny before he finishes reading Cisco's text. He flashes off a quick reply- _thnx im already on my way_ (which reads, when he looks at his phone the next morning "That skirts on my tag")- and makes his way to the address he's memorized from the message.

He suspected his boyfriend was up to something that morning, but the older man is _really_ good at dodging questions and then providing great diversions. He wants to be mad that Lenny used a foot massage for evil, but it was a _spectacular_ massage. So The Flash is in slightly better spirits when he slides to a smooth stop inside the warehouse. It's on the outskirts of a nicer part of town and is (or was- he's pretty sure he made it in time) currently housing a selection of artifacts from a recently uncovered Egyptian tomb. He's putting together jokes about mummy curses when Lenny's head appears over the lid of an open crate.

"Why Flash," Lenny drawls, his smirk raising the goggles covering his eyes ever so slightly. "You're early. I wasn't expecting you for another-" he pauses to glance at his watch. "-fifteen seconds. That excited to see me?"

Flash doesn't even try to hide an answering grin. He'd scoped out the warehouse before dashing inside- there aren't any security cameras or other recording devices. There won't be any footage for later audiences to review. He saunters closer, not even looking for the cold gun. Maybe Lenny isn't going to steal something, after all. Maybe this is a date! He's always known they're an unconventional couple, so it doesn't surprise him that his boyfriend would stage a robbery for him.

"Maybe," Flash replies coyly, stopping on the other side of the crate and folding his arms over the edge of the lid. "You can come over here and see just how excited I am. Or did you want me to chase you." Flash licks his lips, letting his eyes roam from Lenny's goggles, down what's visible of his shirt between the open sides of the parka and resting pointedly on his crotch.

"Afraid I don't have the time." Lenny's voice almost sounds strangled and he's still doing the Cold drawl, so Flash drags his eyes back up to his boyfriend's face. Lenny's eyebrows are just visible over the goggles; he's raising them repeatedly and inclining his head slightly behind him. _Oh, he's playing hard to get today. This is gonna be so good..!_

"I think you can _make_ time," Flash purrs, using his speed to appear behind Lenny. He presses himself flush to the older man's back and slides his hands around and up the front of his shirt.

"You went to all this trouble to get me to _come-"_ He thrusts his hips forward on the last word, grinding his half-hard cock against Lenny's ass. "-be a shame to leave now." He knows he has to be careful, to get out of the suit before he's too excited. But they've been working on his self-control, so Flash knows he can spare a little more teasing.

"Got an ah-appointment." Flash thrills at the stuttering gasp, hands climbing further up Lenny's shirt to splay gloved fingers across his chest.

"Well you'll just have to cancel it. …Or be very, very late," Flash whispers in Lenny's ear, his lips lingering a moment before he sucks the lobe into his mouth, biting down just hard enough for Lenny to let out a quiet moan. It's one of his top five favourite sounds his boyfriend makes.

"I'm s-serious, Flash," Lenny hisses, pulling his ear free and trying to glare over his shoulder. Flash ignores him in favour of kissing a path down the back of his neck and sucking a quick, dark bruise just above his shoulder blade.

"So am I, _Cold_." Flash punctuates his statement with another, more forceful roll of his hips. "And since I caught you, when we get back to your place, you're gonna do the thing with the parka I've always wanted."

It's a testament to how focused on Lenny The Flash is that he doesn't realize they're not alone until he hears the familiar whir of the heat gun powering up practically against the side of his head.

"Oh. Mick's here, too," Flash says, voice flat and boner killed.

"Yeah he is," Mick growls. He shoves the barrel of the gun into Flash's neck. The younger man slips his hands free, lifting them into the air and backing away from Lenny. "Wanna tell me what you think you were doing with my partner?"

"…Uhh, not really, no. I mean, you probably don't want to hear-"

"Back off, Mick." Lenny's voice tries to cut through the tension but Flash is pretty sure that Mick saw a little too much to just stand down now.

"Kid was all over you, Snart," Mick practically shouts, punctuating his words with pokes from the heat gun against Flash's shoulder. "When, exactly, were you going to frost him?"

"I have it under control, just finish loading the car and-"

"Under control?" Mick lets out an incredulous laugh. "Getting dry humped by the Flash was part of your plan, huh?"

"Might've been," Flash sees fit to intervene. He wishes he could see the look on Lenny's face- it's probably priceless.

Lenny turns around and, uh oh, he doesn't seem to think The Flash's quip was very funny. There's a heat climbing up the back of Flash's neck that has nothing to do with the mini flame thrower behind him.

"Oh shit. He really doesn't know." Flash's words are muted, but feel incredibly heavy in the silence that follows. Nope, Heatwave clearly has not been informed that Captain Cold and The Flash are dating.

"What do I not know." Mick says it more like a statement than he's asking a question. Flash decides to keep his mouth shut- he's dug that hole deep enough as it is. Though he's curious as to whether or not Lenny will tell the truth or be able to come up with a really good lie about what Mick interrupted. …He hopes it's the truth- just thinking about Lenny denying they're together makes his stomach clench uncomfortably.

"Put the gun down, Mick," Lenny orders. Flash is too nervous now to be turned on by the commanding tone. Lenny waits until the heat gun finally withdraws from Flash's space before he lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping.

"You were right," Lenny addresses the floor quietly. "From the beginning. We're- Flash and me-"

"Flash and I," Flash corrects helpfully. Both men glare him down- he can't see Mick, but he can feel the look.

"Flash and _me_ are…" Lenny trails off and then clears his throat. He glances up, over Flash's shoulder. "Dating."

The word is like a gunshot, filling the tense silence so suddenly, Flash feels like he should check himself over for a wound. He can't stand not knowing how the unwitting third member of their group is reacting, so Flash spins around to study Mick Rory. His face is blank for all of three seconds- Flash is counting, he can afford to- and then splits into a broad grin, a few teeth shy of an outright leer.

"I fucking _knew_ it," Mick chortles as he holsters his gun. He spins on his heel and marches out of the warehouse, shaking his head and chuckling something about body snatchers.

"He took that really well- aw damnit." Flash turned to smile at Lenny, pleased that they're both still alive and not even burned a little, but his boyfriend has already retreated.

Barry fully intends to collect parka sex once he gets to Lenny's place tonight. He technically won, since the multi-million dollar pharaoh's headdress is still snugly packed in the open crate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed a little speed texting this time! It's kind of funny how, so far, the main title is only factoring into the first chapter. I keep getting ideas for things to happen in this (sort of) AU, and they don't involve Barry's awful texting. It's just too much fun to keep developing his and Leonard's relationship. 
> 
> I hope the text doesn't feel forced or tacked-on, though. And I am being more conscious of it in my notes for future chapters. :)
> 
> The "Present Day" portion takes place a couple months after the last chapter. Leonard doesn't go out and just steal shit every day (he's gotta plan and stake-out and whatnot) so each chapter will be separated by at least two months' time. If it's more or less, I'll say so in the opening notes.
> 
> Also! If you see something that you think should be tagged and isn't, please let me know and I'll add it!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn't love Little Shit Barry?
> 
> I did my best to text those messages myself, as fast as possible. My results were actually a bit more understandable, so I fudged them up for extra hilarity. If anyone who read this didn’t laugh in some fashion at “afart”, I feel bad for you. Farts are always funny. 
> 
> Yes I took some lines from that one episode of Legends of Tomorrow. I’m pleased with myself. And I’m not sure why I went with present tense here. It just kinda started there and I’m pretty sure I maintained it throughout. If it weren’t for spell check, I’d be a total mess.
> 
> The ending- really, the bulk of this after the funny texts- was inspired by this Gorgeous fan art I saw last week, I think: http://verochkasolnce.tumblr.com/post/164377021294/another-art-of-these-two-cant-stop-drawing-them . That woman is talented as hell!


End file.
